


Give Me Your Heart and Your Soul

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A little darker than I anticipated, And Neither Do I, Come Marking, Cunnilingus, Dark!Jon, F/M, Finger Sucking, Jon has no idea what Sansa is up to, just go with it, manipulative!Sansa, possessive!Jon, post 6x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10038053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: Sansa has an unexpected question for Jon...





	1. An Essential Difference

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from Muse's Hysteria, to give you a little insight into Jon's state of mind in this verse...
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2zhAomiGLk

"Jon..."

Sansa's tone startled Jon from his thoughts. When he glanced up he was surprised by the expression on her face. It was Lady Stark looking back at him, not Sansa. Her queenly mask, Jon liked to call it, but never out loud when Sansa could hear it, or anyone else for that matter. He'd come to admire and dread it in equal measures.

She rarely wore it within the confines of their shared solar and he'd learned that it usually meant trouble for him if she did. Her eyes were focused on a point somewhere behind his shoulder. He let out a breath he'd been keeping in a little too long and braced himself.

"Have you ever..." she started asking, a slight crease appearing between her eyebrows. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip, but she stopped herself before she could bite it. "Have you ever fucked a woman's face?"

"What?"

His entire body froze. He must have misunderstood. Sansa would never say such a thing. She bent forward over her needlework, letting her hair fall between them like a curtain, but not before he could catch her cheeks flushing a bright red. "You heard me, Jon. Just answer the question."

He had, but he still couldn't quite believe it. Why would she want to know about such a thing? Why would she ask him? He couldn't ask her. That would only make this more awkward. He allowed himself to relax just enough to be able to think. Sansa sighed. He could get up and walk out of the room. He should simply say no and leave it there. 

Instead he tried to clear his throat, needing several attempts before he was able to force his voice out. "I- That's not what I would call it."

"Oh? But you have?"

There it was again, that tone. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Aye, I err- I've um-" he tried. He hadn't imagined he would ever say this out loud, and to Sansa of all people. "I've had a woman pleasure me with her mouth."

She turned to look at him, tilting her head. He thought her shoulders sagged and a shadow crossed over her face, but she quickly collected herself. "Is there a difference?" she asked him, the same way she might have asked a minor lord to clarify his point in some dispute over borders. "I'd certainly say there is!"

She blinked once before her face pulled into a frown. "Why would you want such a thing?"

Jon shifted in his seat, now truly uncomfortable. Was this the same prim and proper Lady Sansa he'd known all his life? His face felt as hot as the fire three feet away from them. "Because it feels good?"

"Did you tell her to do that?"

"No! Of course not! She offered."

Sansa's mouth fell open. "Was she a- a whore?"

He glared at her, his confusion and embarassment now mixed with anger and frustration. "No!"

She nodded, straightening her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Jon. I'm only trying to understand why this woman of yours, um, did that."

He tried to look anywhere but her face, throwing up his hands. "I don't know, Sansa. Because she wanted to? Because I'd just done the same for her?"

 _Fuck._ He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to clasp his hands over his mouth, not quite able to fathom he'd just told his sister he had...  _Don't think about it._

She huffed out a breath and blinked rapidly. She put her embroidery aside, her face turning scarlet again. "I've never heard- I didn't know that was possible. Did she like that?"

He tried to ignore her eyes flickering to his mouth before she focused on the wall behind him again. "I think so."

She nodded. "Earlier you said... That it was different... How?"

His brow furrowed. "The way you said it made it sound as if the man would just use the woman to satisfy his needs, while it's actually the woman who's err, in charge?"

She met his eyes again, seemingly truly fascinated by his explanation. "It's very intimate, it requires a certain amount of trust."

She turned to face him with her entire body. "But, technically speaking, what would she do?"

 _Alright, that's it._ "I don't know why you want to know all of this, Sansa, but you shouldn't be asking me!"

She assumed an innocent expression that didn't convince him. "Who else could I ask, Jon? You're the only one I can trust!"

He huffed out a grunt of frustration, tearing his eyes away from her face, but unable to keep himself from glancing back, not sure what he was trying to find there. "Why do you even want to know about this?"

She shrugged, nothing feigned about the sad look in her eyes. "I just wanted to know if it was normal."

Something inside him broke. "Sansa," he whispered, watching her rise from her seat to come kneel in front of him. He cupped her cheek in his hand and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. She sighed: "Tell me, Jon."

Jon clenched his jaw.  _Fool._ Her pain might be real, but that didn't mean he should allow her to use it against him. He was walking right into her trap, eyes wide open, yet unaware what she wanted to do with him once she'd caught him. He tried to pull his hand away, but she caught his wrist between her own hands.

He should be able to break free from her grasp, but he couldn't. "Tell me, Jon," she commanded again, meeting his eyes. He stared back at her. "I don't know how."

She bit her lip before closing one of her hands over his fingers, folding them down one by one, until only his index finger was left. She still held him in an iron grip. "Tell me what to do," she repeated, her tone softer now, before closing her lips over his finger.

Her mouth was hot and wet. Instantly heat coiled low in his belly. He screwed his eyes shut.  _She's your sister,_ a voice reminded him. Another voice objected: _What does it matter?_ It was that darker part of him he'd been trying to keep buried ever since he'd returned from the dead. 

His eyes flew open, immediately finding Sansa's expectant gaze. "Try moving your lips up and down," he heard himself say. She followed his instructions hesitantly. His cock started stirring. He tried to ignore it, keeping his face calm. "You should suck a little more."

He didn't understand why those words were coming out of his mouth. He forced himself to keep his eyes on hers, afraid looking away would betray his response to her actions. "Whoa! Whoa!" he exclaimed. "A little more gently at first."

She obeyed. He was completely hard now. She raised her eyebrows. "Use your tongue," he told her, "lick me."

 _I did not just say that._ She pressed her tongue flat and dragged it along as she pulled away slowly. He tried to ignore his throbbing cock as his eyes fluttered closed. She swirled her tongue around the length of his finger. "That's it..."

To his horror, a moan escaped from his lips. Sansa whimpered and released him. His eyes flew open, finding her blinking at him in surprise. Swiftly she rose to her feet, smoothing out her skirts. "Thank you, Jon. That was very enlightening. You were right. I see how that would be different."

"You're welcome," he choked out. He tried not to notice that her lips were a little swollen and notably darker. "I think I'll retire now. Goodnight, Jon."

"Goodnight, Sansa."

She walked past him, avoiding his eyes. She paused at the door. "Jon?"

"Yes?"

His voice shouldn't sound so eager or hopeful. He was still painfully hard. "Perhaps tomorrow you could show me how a man pleasures a woman with his mouth."

 

 


	2. I Want It Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon struggles. He's still Jon, but a new part of him has been awakened and it's getting more and more difficult to restrain it. And then the wolf comes out to play...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I used this story to revisit two of my favourite tropes for show verse Jonsa
> 
> I love the idea of Jon being 'oblivious' to his own feelings aka repressing them until 'something' happens to trigger him into facing them. Usually he fights these feelings, but I decided to go with a darker Jon who's been resisting ever since Castle Black so he's already right on the edge here.
> 
> The other of course is Sansa who doesn't give a damn about right or wrong anymore, as long as she gets what she wants. She's doing everything she can to make Jon give in. She has no idea what she's getting herself into...
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with the end result, because this chapter is a lot darker than the first one, so they feel a little disconnected... But then again, this is how it turned out and I hope at least some of you like it... I'll warn you, it gets quite filthy at some points...

Jon was kneeling before a naked woman, his eyes level with the triangle of glistening red hair between her thighs. He remembered this, even if the images were usually murkier in his waking hours. Most of his memories from before had become blurred like that, his other senses standing out much sharper in them. It was the same now, he felt the silky expanse of her skin pebbling under his touch, heard her draw in a breath in anticipation and most of all he could smell her.

He pressed his nose into her inviting curls, inhaling her. She whimpered and his eyes flew open.  _This isn't right._ He forced his eyes to work to take in her body. Her limbs were too long. He blinked, glancing around the room.  _Room? We were in a cave._ He finally found her face. Her lips moved slowly, hypnotizing him and her voice came out in an alluring lilt. "Show me, Jon."

He awoke, veering up in his bed, his hair and tunic plastered to his damp skin. He collapsed, burying his face in the pillows and fisting his hands into the furs, trying to force his breathing to return back to normal. He wanted to scream, had to resist the urge to hurl everything within his reach across the room. He'd been avoiding her for days now, had even tried to forbid his mind from wandering to her, but he simply couldn't escape her. She'd come to dominate his entire life. He was forever circling around her, keeping his distance, aware one moment of weakness would make him snap and close in for the kill. 

Or perhaps he'd launch himself back into the abyss, depending on the way he looked at it. He could never quite figure out the truth of it. Sometimes he felt like a wolf stalking his prey, a creature to whom the world was much simpler, relying on base instincts as it did. It would give him such sweet relief to just give in. At other times he was a moth, drawn to a light so bright it could only be a flame. He was cold and empty inside and she was blazing and radiant. He craved her warmth, even if he knew it would consume him in an instant. Then there were those moments when he couldn't shake the feeling that he was nothing more than a puppet on a string and she could do with him as she pleased.

 _Sansa..._ Her essence invaded his mind. He hadn't even been aware of all of this before that night, or at least that's what he'd tried telling himself. It had taken every last ounce of effort he could muster, but he'd managed to keep it all hidden away, until she'd kneeled before him. He'd been able to pretend, until she put that other image in his head. He pushed himself up and thrust his fist through the headboard, roaring in rage. He blinked curiously at the trails of blood trickling down his knuckles, ignoring the vision of plump pink lips sucking it off his fingers that flashed through his mind.

***

Sansa came to him that same night, wearing her queenly mask. "I've made a decision," she informed him, slipping through the half-open door to his chambers. He only turned to face her when she was at least five feet away from him. He could see her shoulders move up and down as she took a deep breath.

"I've been married twice now. My first husband never touched me and my second only used me, taking from me whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. The Septa always told me that coupling was a duty for a wife to endure, but I've heard maids and kitchen wenches whisper and giggle about the pleasure they've found. Perhaps it's because they're not married to those men, I don't know, but I'm not willing to take any risks. I want to know what it's like to experience pleasure, if only once, and I need you to help me. I want you to do that thing with your mouth."

Jon gulped and clenched his fists to keep himself from obeying on the spot. Unable to contain the heat coursing through his body, he tried to redirect it, turning it into indignant rage. "Have you lost your mind, Sansa? I'm your brother!"

She stared back at him, her face calm and her eyes cool. It was so infuriating he wanted to rip her pretty blue bedrobe to shreds. "After all we've been through, aren't you past caring about all of that, Jon? I know I am."

He shook his head, grinding his teeth. "It's not right. It's not supposed to be like this."

She laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, Jon! When was the last time anything was the way it was supposed to be? Do you even remember?"

He didn't, he couldn't. Nothing about his life had ever been right. "I understand what you want, but it isn't right for me to give you that. Someday you'll meet a man who will love you so much he'll be willing to give you anything. One day your husband will-"

"My husband?" Sansa exclaimed in an incredulous voice. "I can't marry anyone. Imagine the danger I'd be putting you in by giving a man that kind of power!"

His heart sank.  _She's right._ _It's all my fault._ He should have refused that crown and given it to her. Sansa closed the distance between them, whispering his name. "Jon, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. It's just... No man will ever marry me for love. All they'll ever want from me is my claim and my body."

He glanced up to meet her eyes. "Perhaps you should take a lover then. I wouldn't hold it against you."

She was looking at her feet. "I can't."

He shrugged, trying to ignore the stab to his heart and the monster in his chest roaring at the idea of another man touching Sansa. "Why not? I'm sure there are plenty of men who'd be happy to fill that role."

She huffed, shaking her head. "You don't believe me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. She shook her head once more. "Why not?"

"Because no one could ever love me, Jon!"

Suddenly her face was in his hands and she was so close to him he could feel her body heat bleeding into his freezing limbs. He tried to ignore the sizzling in the air as he whispered: "I do."

Her hands on his shoulders were so warm, he could feel her touch radiate throughout his body. Tears pearled in her innocent blue eyes as her breath washed over his face. "Then be that man you just promised me. I'm done being taken from. Give me everything I want."

She held his gaze, but he tried to pull his eyes away from hers, releasing her face. Her robe had fallen open, giving him a clear view into her loose nightrail. He glanced up again to find her puckering her lips, eyes fluttering closed.  _Fuck! She's doing it again!_ He grabbed her face again, perhaps a little more roughly than he'd intended and her eyes flew open as she gasped his name, clutching his arms. "Jon!"

"Damn you, Sansa," he forced out through gritted teeth. His eyes travelled over her flushed face, lingering too long on her slightly parted lips. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Her hands slid down his arms until she was hugging her own frame and her face fell, bottom lip trembling. "I'm sorry, Jon," she whispered, "I know I don't deserve your love, but I want it anyway."

She might be lying, and even if she was not, she probably knew exactly what she was doing, but he didn't care. There was nothing of the wolf left in him, except for the hunger. He pulled her flush against him and captured her lips in a greedy kiss, his hands unwinding the tresses of her hair from her braid.

With every pull of his lips, every nip of his teeth and every stroke of his tongue he was draining her, feeling her warmth pouring into him, coarsing through his veins and permeating every last inch of his body. He vaguely registered that her hands were fumbling at the laces of his tunic. His own left their place, tangled up in her hair and replaced hers, ripping the piece of clothing from his chest. 

Her hands felt like fire on his exposed chest. He had been right, he was burning up under her touch, but he enjoyed it too much to make her stop. She pushed his destroyed tunic off his shoulders. Somehow her robe was already on the floor and he was eager to give her nightrail the same treatment as his own clothing. His cock was straining against his breeches. _Focus._   _She wants you to give her pleasure._

He pulled away and found her face. He didn't know what she saw in his eyes, but hers widened and darkened when he met her gaze. Her lips were bruised and the monster inside him roared.  _Mine!_ Never looking away from her eyes, he slowly started unlacing her nightrail. She stopped breathing until his eyes trailed down the deep V exposing her body to him all the way down to her navel.

He splayed his hand over her sternum when he saw her exhale and pulled his hand down, following it with his eyes, brushing the swell of her breasts with his fingers, curling them into a claw before moving his hand back up to push her nightrail off her shoulders. Her breath hitched. She wasn't wearing any smallclothes.

The skin of her body was marked all over, at some places only by fine silver lines, but in others the scars were like angry red brands. His mind brimmed over with the urge to erase those marks and replace them with his own.  _No! You can't have her,_ he told the scars,  _she's mine._

He grabbed her by the waist and inclined his head until his mouth was on her jaw and he started nibbling and licking his way down, encouraged by the sounds falling from her lips. He closed his mouth over her long white throat and dug his teeth in with the slightest of pressure. She gasped as he sucked on the left side of her neck, long and hard. He moved lower, kissing and nipping at her collarbones. 

He used his fingers and lips and teeth and tongue to lavish attention on her breasts, taking his time. When he released her right nipple from his mouth, she cried out. He glanced up, dread crushing his heart, but her eyes were blown wide with desire and she was grinning at him.

He refocused on her body, admiring his work. Her skin was flushed and littered with darker red spots from his beard and teeth and there was a large purple bloom on her neck. Her nipple was blue, fine lines spreading out onto the white flesh of her breast, resembling a star.

He lowered himself onto his knees, adjusting himself through his breeches and let his hands rest on her hips. This was it, the image from his dream. Her scent was intoxicating. He nuzzled his face into the hair covering her mound and inhaled deeply, breathing her in. She opened her legs and he released his breath at the sight of her soft pink flesh, letting it wash over her damp folds, drawing a whimper from her lips.

At the first swipe of his tongue, Jon groaned and Sansa's knees buckled. He steadied her and rose to his feet again. He released her pushing off his boots and deciding to rid himself from his ever-tightening breeches. She blinked at him. "Lie on the bed," he instructed her. She shook her head. "No, not the bed."

He nodded, kicking off his breeches. "Alright then," he growled, scooping her up and carrying her to the desk. He sat down on the chair and hooked his hands under her knees to pull her to him. "Now watch," he told her, "I'll show you how a man pleasures a woman with his mouth."

She propped herself up on her elbows to follow his instructions. He held her gaze for a moment, before inclining his head to focus on the feast before him. He nearly sobbed at the sight and smell of her arousal. A wicked grin spread across his face as a thought occurred to him.

"Perhaps something else first," he mused. Her brow furrowed. He slipped his fingers between her folds and wiggled them, collecting her wetness. He felt the muscles of her cunt twitch against his hand. A whimper of protest escaped from her lips as he pulled his hand away, tendrils of her juices forming between her lower lips and his fingers.

He drew his wet hand down over his face, nuzzling into it. He heard her gasp. "See?" he asked her, taking in the look of bewilderment on her face, "I'm yours." 

He flicked his tongue out to lick his hand clean, groaning at the taste of her on his tongue. "Don't look away."

He hooked her legs over his shoulders, holding her steady with one hand on the small of her back. He started lapping at her folds, lightly at first, only teasing his tongue around her clit, carefully avoiding direct contact. He suckled and nibbled at her lower lips, dipping his tongue into her from time to time. He could tell from her moans that she needed more.

So did Jon, so he ripped away his own smallclothes to fist his throbbing cock with his still lightly damp hand and closed his lips over her nub. Sansa bucked her hips and mewled, sending shudders down his spine. At his answering moan, she threaded her fingers through his curls, pulling hard.

The sharp pricks of pain sent jolts of pleasure down to his groin. He hummed and sucked and licked as his hand tugged harder and faster and he could feel both of their bodies tensing up. Sansa lay back and started grinding her hips against his mouth and he had to still his hand to keep himself from finishing then and there.

Her back arched off the desk and she peaked with a cry, almost tearing out his hair and soaking his beard with her juices. He kept sucking until she stopped shuddering. He removed her legs from his shoulders and moved her up the desk, standing over her.

Her flushed face was the loveliest things he'd ever seen, her bottom lip bleeding from where she'd bitten it to stifle her moans and her eyes dark and heavily lidded. He forced himself to keep the strokes on his cock slow and soft so he could ask her: "Do you want to be mine?"

She nodded, so he growled and climbed onto the desk to straddle her waist. Finally, he increased the pressure and accelerated the movements of his hand, until he could feel his balls tighten and the coil at the base of his spine snapping. He watched his seed spill onto her pink nipple and the blue one and the soft skin of her breasts, grunting and howling.  _Mine! Mine! Mine!_ he chanted as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him. 

He braced his hands on either side of her head and bent down to kiss her and lick the blood from her lips. He pulled back to rub his seed into her creamy skin, sighing contentedly. Suddenly, he remembered to ask: "How did you like the demonstration, my lady?"

She pulled her fascinated face away from the hand that was still moving between her breasts. She smirked before assuming her queenly expression again. "Well enough, Your Grace, but I'm afraid I lost my focus at some point. You might have to do it again sometime."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know...  
> *hides face in shame*
> 
> I promise to return to writing things that are not shameless porn asap...


End file.
